


Just Some Information Upon My Skin

by SirAndroid



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Haphephobia, Panic Attacks, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), adding that for precautionary reasons - its not that bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirAndroid/pseuds/SirAndroid
Summary: Connor doesn’t want anyone to touch him – especially if they’re an android.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Just Some Information Upon My Skin

Connor had never been fond of physical touch. From those he was familiar with he didn’t particularly mind it as much, but he would never understand the need for strangers to make physical contact without reason. Even with Hank, he preferred that any physical interaction was something that he initiated or something he could at least anticipate before it occurred. In the least, any physical contact with people that he did have tended to be brief and only when it was required.

He wasn’t built to be ‘touchy-feely’. He was built to kill. It made sense in his programming that he would be somewhat more adverse to physical touch than a household android. The only reason he would need to touch another person would be to interface with them, to get more information from a suspect quickly. Connor wished that such systems were never installed.

Prior to deviancy, they were entirely practical, if invasive and perhaps cruel to the recipient, forcing them to relive a memory they more often than not would rather simply forget. For Connor though, it was merely re-watching memories through the eyes of another. Until it wasn’t. Post deviancy, it was feeling all the emotions that came with the emotional turmoil that each suspect or victim went through.

It wasn’t an enjoyable experience, but it was necessary.

It was something that was built into his system for a reason. It was useful for him to have such abilities. It was required. There were cases where all the evidence they could base their investigation came from him interfacing with another android. There were instances he was specifically requested to interface with another android and supply a testimony in their place. There was being forced to feel the dread of an owner he didn’t actually have about to beat him, the sting of electrocution at the hands of anti-android protestors, a harrowing wretch of his friend being killed in front of him, the fear of dying as it happened. He had half the cases he’d worked in his memories, in first person.

It was something manageable though, he refused to let it affect his cases. He refused to let his abilities go to waste.

But he didn’t want to use them when he could do otherwise.

* * *

The DPD employed another android. Not another detective android, but a PC200 that was employed mainly to work on patrols. Connor had avoided her at first, just as he had been avoiding most of the androids that were around the DPD, however he eventually did meet her.

When she ran into him she immediately broke into a wide smile, “You’re Connor, aren’t you?” She had recognized him before he could escape, “You helped in the revolution!”

“Yes, that is me.” Connor nodded, hoping that would be the end of the conversation and already trying to make his way out of the conversation and away from her. Before he could do so, she extended out her hand.

“Gracie, nice to meet you.”

Connor stared at her hand. He felt the dread just looking at it.

Logically, there would be no harm to touching it. He wouldn’t get her memories, he would be fine, he needed to be able to just shake her hand. He would be rude not to, especially when she seemed to glad to meet him.

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” He greeted him in return, ignoring the presented hand despite having clearly looked at it, supplying a courteous nod in place of a handshake.

Before more could be said, before he had to spend any more time around her, he quickly made his way to his desk. He needed his stress levels to return to normal anyhow.

* * *

“There’s been a larger case load recently, most likely due to the increased riots and people taking advantage of the current upheaval.” Connor explained to Gracie. He felt something of a duty to do so. It was evident that she looked up to him, even if he didn’t entirely understand the reasoning behind her admiration of him.

He still preferred to avoid her when he could, especially because he had noticed that she was rather friendly with people, but he knew he couldn’t merely avoid her when she was in fact his co-worker, especially when she followed him into the breakroom like this.

“Sounds stressful.” Gracie remarked.

“It is, in a sense. I’ve noticed quite a few detectives electing to do overtime to compensate for the larger workload.”

“It’ll be okay, I’m sure.” Gracie swung her arm around his shoulder as a gesture of solidarity.

Connor isn’t sure he’s ever moved faster. The action took him by surprise and he split the coffee he had just made for Hank on the floor and pushed Gracie away in the process of trying to get her off him. She had touched him. She had touched him. _She had put her arm around him_.

“Woah, sorry there.” She chuckled awkwardly.

“I-It’s fine.” He stammered but his LED was in solid read.

She touched him, she touched him, she touched him. Everything was fine, he was fine. He was present in the moment, he hadn’t interfaced. It was fine. He couldn’t freak out like this.

“I need to go.” He said abruptly, discarded the mess of spilled coffee and briskly making his way to the bathrooms to be alone and try to reduce his stress levels. To be alone and _safe_.

* * *

He wanted to wear gloves.

The function of gloves was largely redundant for androids, especially for Connor. He was resistant to temperatures that would give a human hypothermia, he didn’t even need to wear gloves to handle evidence given a lack of fingerprints and he was well aware it wouldn’t suit his typical attire, but it would save him having to touch anybody. It would keep him safe.

He realised how ridiculous it sounded. The fact that he was scared to brush fingers with someone when they hand him something was ridiculous. That the brief few milliseconds of contact would pull him into another memory that he wasn’t even supposed to have. He was scared that he’d reach for something at the same time and make contact. He was scared someone would grab his hand for his attention. He wanted something there to keep them protected, but he knew it would only draw questions.

The jacket though, that was something that he could keep on regardless. He could feel safe wearing it. Immediately after the revolution, he didn’t wear it quite to religiously as he used to. Most often he would wear it, but sometimes he would wear a simple button up, rolling the sleeves up his forearm because Hank said it looked better on him like that.

Hank told him he should try changing up his wardrobe, or that it was ‘kinda weird’ that he was wearing a jacket in warm weather but he could brush off the comments easily. He disregarded concerns that he was leaving himself vulnerable to hate crimes when wearing such obvious android attire, but it didn’t matter. The jacket covered him. It kept him safe.

He never wanted to take it off.

* * *

“Failing to respond only makes you seem more guilty, Jakub. It’s in your own best interests to respond.” Connor tried to coax the android opposite him, keeping his voice level and neutral as he fished for any sort of response.

Thus far, they hadn’t managed to get anything out of the android. Hank had tried but he refused to respond to anything but confirming his identity. He refused to say anything else to them and was being adamant about it. Well, he refused to say anything to Hank.

“I want to help you.”

Jakub looked up to him suddenly. His gaze quickly shifted from his eyes to look directly at the LED on the side of his head. “You are. They aren’t.” Jakub’s voice came out quieter as he leaned forwards in his seat.

Connor knew exactly what he meant as he glanced to the one way mirror that hide behind it the lieutenant and detective Reed before addressing Jakub again, “ _We_ only want to do what’s right. To bring justice. We need to know what you were doing when you went to his house. You’re the only one who can prove your own innocence.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand Jakub.”

“I don’t want them to hear. Come closer.”

Connor immediately did the opposite. Reeling back in his seat as his own stress level increased without warning. It was probably not the best move, but he couldn’t help it. Close meant more likelihood of contact, something he didn’t want to risk.

Connor glanced over to the mirror, unable to see them through it. He wished that they could aid him somehow, or rather he could ask with a reasonable excuse for wanting to leave the room. He didn’t want to proceed the investigation but he knew better than to admit that. He was the most likely person that Jakub was going to talk to based off the information he had given thus far. He needed to continue.

He took a deep breath and leaned back against his seat as Jakub was leaning over the table uncomfortably close. What if he made contact?

“Please, they’ll shut me down.” Jakub pleaded once more, focusing in Connor’s attention once more to the matter at hand.

“They aren’t allowed to do that anymore.” He assured him with a more gentle tone.

“Like they care about what they can and can’t do!”

“Jakub, calm down.” Connor ordered him, moving forwards in his seat despite the increase it caused to his stress levels. He could only hope that his discomfort wasn’t picked up on by anyone else. He tried to ignore it and close the distance.

“Why are you with them?” Jakub asked him, desperation seeping into his voice.

“They aren’t against us. I promise but we can’t help you if you don’t talk to us. Tell us everything you know and we’ll help you as best we can.”

“I’m innocent, please. I say anything and they’ll turn it against me because I’m an android!” Jakob lurched out of his seat, his arm flailing out to reach Connor as he desperately pleaded. Connor jerked away from him the instant he moved, kicking his seat to the ground in his urgency and backing into the one-way mirror separating the two rooms as his heart started to race.

For a brief few seconds, Jakub had grabbed onto his wrist. Skin touching skin. His stress level had gone up again. He kept his hand away from his body in an attempt to quickly decrease his stress levels, though his distress had been evident to both Jakub and everyone else viewing the scene in the adjacent room.

“What the… what happened kid? Did he attack you?” Hank called out loudly enough there was no doubt he would have been heard through the one-way mirror.

“No.” Connor responded stiffly.

There was murmuring from the other room before the door into the interrogation room opened and there were suddenly people shuffling into the room. Connor’s gaze didn’t shift. He didn’t move. Hank’s hands were on his shoulders and he was manauvered out of the room while Gavin shouted something in the background.

“Lieutenant, what…?” Connor trailed off as his voice wavered, barely aware that he was still supposed to be in the middle of an interrogation as his head swam. He needed to get out. He needed to be alone. He needed to feel safe. He needed to feel safe. He didn’t feel safe.

“They’ll can take care of him, don’t worry.” Hank’s voice sounded more like he was concentrating than anything. He kept his hands firmly on Connor’s shoulders as they walked out of the room. Connor didn’t think he’d have been able to protest the action if he wanted to.

* * *

Something was wrong. Something was wrong and he didn’t know how to fix it. He curled into himself and wanted to hide, he wanted to make himself smaller and disappear from the rest of the world. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. He knew that he had to do it – it was his job and Fowler had directly ordered him to go out and help but he _couldn’t_.

He pressed his forehead against his knees and pulled the fabric of his jacket tightly around his body. He wanted to be small, he wanted to hide. His chest felt too tight and he didn’t know how to calm himself. His stress levels were near critical and he just needed to hide.

“Connor? Where the fuck have ya’ run off to kid?”

He heard Hank calling for him but he couldn’t respond. He pressed himself up against the desk he had slunk underneath and dug his fingers into his arm.

“God, you’ve got me chasing after you like you’re a damn toddler.” Hank grumbled aloud as the door opened to the room. Hank walked around the room, Connor only wanted to hide more. He was already seen though and he knew it immediately as the footsteps stopped and he heard, in a breathy exhale, “Oh Connor.”

Hank knelt down beside him. Connor didn’t acknowledge him.

“Hey kid, you okay there?”

He didn’t respond.

“Come on, talk to me here. Your LED’s all red. You’re not hurt, are you?”

He shook his head without taking it away from his knees.

“Any reason your hiding under a table?”

Hank’s voice carried its usually gruff edge but he was evidently trying to be gentle. He was evidently concerned. Connor tried to figure out a non-verbal way to communicate. He felt too anxious to respond properly but he couldn’t think of anything else. He opened his mouth a few times, forcing things to work before sound finally came out, quietly and half muffled into his pants.

“Alone.”

“You wanted to be alone? Is something wrong?”

Yes. No. Maybe. Nothing was technically wrong. Any diagnostic would have informed him that there wasn’t anything that was wrong with his systems except his stress levels. Except things he should have had control over. He felt like he wanted to hide, like he was in danger. He felt like everything was too much and he wanted it to be less. He wasn’t even on the field yet and everything was crashing down.

“Just, explain it as best as you can.”

“I can’t police the riots. I can’t – I can’t – I can’t.”

“Did Fowler ask you to go out there?”

He nodded silently. His stress levels rising just discussing the topic.

He had spoken about it with Hank, made sure to express that he didn’t want to go there under any circumstances without explicitly supplying his reasoning. He couldn’t. It would be an area crowded with androids that he was inevitably going to bump into, to brush shoulders with, that he would make contact before he even realized it.

Who knows what they would have been through, what of their trauma he would adopt. It was too much. It was too risky.

He couldn’t do it.

“It’ll be okay kid. You don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna. I’ll talk to Fowler.” Hank assured him, his hand touching his shoulder to try and comfort him. Connor tried to move away and whimpered causing Hank to retract his hand, “Okay, I won’t touch ‘ya.”

* * *

The fall had completely shattered his knee. A fall from several stories high, the majority of the force being placed on the one leg. It had at least allowed him to capture the suspect and he’d managed to give chase briefly after but as soon as the suspect had been apprehended, he couldn’t keep himself up.

He’d collapsed onto the hard concrete, his leg making at awful noise with every movement as he tried to get up again, wanting nothing more than to simply go limp. It wasn’t something that hadn’t happened before, Connor had sustained serious injury on cases before, but this was different.

This time, when the medical team arrived – they were androids.

“I don’t want their help, I’m fine!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted them to leave. They kept trying to approach him, _to touch him_ and all he could do was try and crawl backward towards the building.

He didn’t want them to touch him.

“Just let them help you.” Hank told him gently, his brow furrowed in concern as he continued to try and reason with him without understanding why he was even distressed.

“I don’t – no.”

“Kid, somebody’s got to look you over.”

“Not an android, I don’t want it to be an android.”

Hank was silent for a moment, as though he’d heard him wrong, “Wha… what?”

“Please just – just not an android. I – I can’t…” His voice started breaking without him wanting it to. He couldn’t have them touch him, he couldn’t. He wanted to hide, he wanted to curl into himself and hide but he couldn’t even bend his leg without overflowing his vision with warnings.

“Kid, what’s going on?”

“Hank pl-lease.”

His voice was growing more mechanical with distress as Hank knelt down in front of him, gesturing for the paramedics to stay where they were. “Okay kid, hey. Hey, you’re freaking out on me.” Hank walked closer to him slowly.

“I don’t want them ne-near me-e.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Hank sighed.

“Please, we want to help.” The medical android tried to approach him again, holding his hands up in a placating manner. Connor’s LED remained in solid red as he scrambled backwards, trying to force himself to stand on a broken leg and failing, falling to the ground again. The broken segments of his leg audibly grinding together.

“D-Don’t touch me!” He shouted desperately.

Hank had had enough. “Just leave him alone! Uh… somebody go get a real person to help.” Hank ordered to them, cringing at his own phrasing.

Connor tried to get up again, but it was futile. He’d already dragged a trail of blue thirium from his crawling and each movement resulting in more pouring out. Hank went up to him and pushed him back down gently, “Stay calm kid, they’ll get someone for you.”

“Don’t let them touch me. D-don’t let them. Please. I can’t – I don’t want to s-see…”

“Hey, shh, shh. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Hank tried to quiet him and rubbed his shoulder gently. Connor pulled away from him and tried to force himself up again, finding Hank pushing him back again. “N-no hand” Connor protested, dropping further onto the concrete.

“I’m sorry kid but you gotta stay down. It’ll be fine, alright? We’re gettin’ someone to look you over. Someone who isn’t an android.” When he stopped trying to move, Hank’s hand fell away. He wasn’t any less panicked though, as his breathing came out with an electronic edge all too quickly and he didn’t stop shaking.

“I-I’m scared. Please, I’m scared” Connor’s voice dropped, but it didn’t lose the mechanical edge as he curled in on himself best he could with his broken leg. Hank knelt down beside him, close enough that he could pull him down if he tried to get up again but still giving him space to himself.

“I’m right here kid, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

* * *

Connor hadn’t said anything since he’d returned. He’d stiffly sat on the sofa, with his LED stuck on yellow, flickering to red every so often. Hank had let him have his space and respected when he silently shook his head when asked, ‘Do you want to talk it’.

It didn’t mean that they weren’t going to talk about it though, and Connor knew that, but he wanted to pretend that they wouldn’t. He wanted to pretend that it was fine and they didn’t have to address it but once they were given their next case, he could practically see Hank figuring out how to address the topic.

“Kid, you sure you’re okay to do this investigation?” Hank asked him after they’d arrived home in the evening.

“Of course, Lieutenant, I am designed for this sort of work.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Hank’s voice was serious and Connor wanted to avoid it. He brushed his hands through Sumo’s fur as the dog rolled over on the floor and focused on that instead, “We need to talk about it eventually.”

His LED flipped into red just recalling it. “It won’t happen again.”

Hank sighed and sat down on the couch, “I don’t wanna pry kid, I can see you don’t want to talk about this, but I can’t have you going on a scene and refusing medical help when you need it. You gotta talk to me here.”

“I won’t do it again.” He repeated.

“You were scared, you were legitimately scared there. I mean, your leg was fucking shattered and you were bleeding everywhere, but you were scared of the _paramedics_.”

Connor felt through Sumo’s soft fur. The strands rubbing against his synthetic skin and how he could see where his hands had combed through in her fur. “I have my reasons.”

“What kind of reasons? Come on, you can tell me anything.”

He took a deep breath. He knew that he couldn’t avoid it. If he did, he had no doubt that Hank would find some way to pull him off the investigation concerned he would repeat what occurred last time. He didn’t have a choice but to explain it.

“Do you remember when we caught that android on the Stanford Tower?”

“Right after you just gave me a heart attack, yeah.”

“Well, when I touched him… I could feel what he felt. I felt like I was dying.” He frowned slightly, needing to pause before he could continue, “In investigations, whenever I’ve interfaced with other androids, I don’t just see what happened, I can feel it. I can feel their pain, their loss, their trauma, their fear. I feel how they feel and… I think I would rather not feel at all.”

“You worried that’s gonna happen if someone touches you?” Hank clarified. “Don’t you have control over that?”

“I can’t be certain.”

Hank sighed heavily and scrubbed his hand over his face as he processed what Connor was saying to him. “Nobody can be certain about anything kid, doesn’t mean you gotta worry about it all the time.”

“I know, it’s illogical but…”

“But you can’t help it?” Hank finished for him as he trailed off, “Yeah, I get it. Part of being human. It’s not your fault kid. I get it, I just… why didn’t you say something?”

There were too many reasons to list that he only bothered saying the most obvious one, “The problem can’t be fixed. I’d only cause you needless concern.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because it’s illogically founded and I’ve tried to reason with myself, but it’s failed.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to do so yourself. It’s evidently getting in the way of stuff, if we can’t find a way to solve it, we can at least find a way to make it a little easier for you. You want that, right?”

Connor nodded. Of course, he wanted that. It was all he had been trying to do for himself by avoiding it and it had only led to worse things.

“We’ll sort something out kid, we will.” Hank repeated, ruffling his hair, startling him slightly and making Hank laugh. “You’ll be fine, ya’ always are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really hate people touching me - it makes me anxious and uncomfortable enough I will wear a jacket in the middle of summer to avoid it, so naturally I found a way to do that to Connor. I wrote this in a day and I haven't edited it but I'm going to post it here anyway because I don't want to look at it again but I also want to feel productive. I'm on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/youwillnotlearnmyname/) too, but I don't post DBH stuff.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked this piece of garbage.


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